by Lyra Parish
“The cops are here. We need to get the fuck out while we can. They are making arrests, and the last thing either of you need is to be linked to any of this,” Abbot said. He locked the door, then moved across the room, past Jennifer, and opened the window. “Out.” He pointed.
Jennifer turned and looked at me like Abbot had lost his mind, and for a moment, I thought he had.
“Get the fuck out, now. I’m going to wait a few minutes, unlock the door, and follow you. I’ve got keys to a few motorcycles in the garage.”
I shot him a scowl, and he gave me one of those I-can’t-help-it looks.
I crawled out the window behind Jennifer. The roof, for the most part, was flat, so we ducked around the corner and waited for Abbot to follow. After a few minutes, he did as promised. We walked around the house until we found a side that had very few windows, and we waited. Abbot peeked around the corner and kept watch. Sounds of crashing furniture and muffled yelling echoed through the house. Jennifer and I pressed our backs against the adobe walls and watched the sun rise over the treetops. She rested her head under my chin and wrapped her arms around my waist. My head pounded with the beat of my heart.
Abbot whistled and waved us over. We followed him back into the bedroom. The dresser had been tipped over and clothes had been thrown from the closet onto the floor. The pictures of motorcycles had been ripped from the walls.
Abbot poked his head out of the room and quickly looked around. “Let’s go,” Abbot said, and we followed him down the creaking stairs. The entire house had been turned upside down. Abbot threw me a pair of keys, and we made our way to the garage.
“Felton,” a familiar voice said. My blood seemed to pump faster upon hearing the rasp of Baxtor’s voice. The man had no soul, no regret, and didn’t feel remorse for anything. All he knew was revenge. I slowly turned and looked into dangerous, dark eyes.
“Jesse. I’m going to find that bitch and kill her myself,” he growled.
I narrowed my eyes at him, confused.
“She caused this shit. Planted cocaine on one of my boys. The cops jumped at the chance of finding drugs at the compound. That cunt bitch. I’m going to track her down and skin her alive.”
Jennifer’s eyes widened.
“I’ll find her first,” Abbot said.
“She’s a dead bitch walking,” Baxtor said. “Dead. Bitch. Walking. Don’t take the bikes. Your car is here.” He reached into his pocket and handed me the keys. I looked down at them, then up at him.
“Nothing like a common enemy to bring two people together. You aren’t still holding that grudge, are you?” Baxtor taunted me.
I balled my hand into a fist. The pain from last night coursed up my arm as each one of my swollen knuckles cracked.
“My offer still stands, Jennifer,” Baxtor said, and that was the last thing I remembered.
Anger swallowed me whole and spat me out. Then the next thing I knew, my fist was in the air and my knuckles were connecting with his face. All control was lost. He threw punches back, and somehow got his hands around my neck. I gasped for air, kicking and struggling to get free so I could continue unleashing my anger. Abbot pushed Baxtor off me.
We were heaving for air, both of us. Jennifer stood with her hands over her worried face, and when Baxtor and I went back in for round two, Abbot stood between us, yelling, “Fucking stop it. This is enough. You both want the same thing.”
I shook my head, knowing damn well we weren’t on the same team and our goals were on two different ends of the spectrum.
Baxtor spit on the floor, blood mixed with saliva. “You’re a fucking psycho, Felton. Always have been. Always will be.”
“You tend to bring out the worst in people, Bax. Always have, always will.”
We moved around Abbot, determined to finish had been started years ago. I saw a flash of metal, and Abbot charged Baxtor, just fast enough to grab a fistful of hair and place the knife at his throat. Baxtor’s mood soured as he stood completely still.
“You two need to call a truce. It’s been over a fucking decade. Let’s end this now,” Abbot said.
Anger swirled in Baxtor’s eyes. Was it possible I saw a hint of regret there as well? If so, it wasn’t because he actually regretted trying to steal my wife, but regretted that Abbot had the upper hand. He couldn’t escape this one. A grin snuck onto my face and I narrowed my eyes at him. His chest heaved with every careful breath he took. I glanced over at Abbot, knowing how skilled he was with a blade, knowing that he would kill Baxtor right here if I made the call.
I should do it.
I seriously contemplated it.
Time stood still.
“I knew you weren’t like us. You never could finish people off. You were a pussy, no matter what anyone did to you, and I don’t think you’ve changed at all in ten years,” Baxtor said.
Abbot tightened his grip on Baxtor’s hair and pulled his head back, exposing his neck.
“Unfortunately for you, I’m not Finnley,” Abbot said.
“True, very true,” I said. “Why did you do it, Baxtor? Why did you try to steal the only woman I loved? Why did you tell her terrible things about me? Fucking why?”
It was a stare-off.
“I wanted to know she was loyal to you. Loyalty helps keep relationships strong. If you can’t trust them before you marry them, then why would you trust them afterwards? She loved you, Finnley. She would have never taken my offer.” He hung his head low and truth flashed in his eyes as his shoulders slumped. Baxtor lived and killed over loyalty. I should have realized his tactics long ago. The man didn’t show a sign of weakness, nor did he tell his truths. Part of me didn’t understand why he would tell me now. Because it was the truth and time had passed? The grudge had to stop now.
My insides felt like they were melting in on themselves. My heart was crushing. For years, I’d hated a man for nothing. I glanced over at Jennifer, then back at Abbot.
“Let him go,” I said.
Abbot questioned me.
“Yes, let him go.”
I felt like I was losing myself, losing everything I was. There were too many emotions streaming through me, which I hadn’t felt in years. When Baxtor talked about Jackie, all I could remember was that feeling of loss from the day she died. Six years. Six long years, and still to this day, it pained me. With Jennifer, I was learning to be stronger, but losing someone was something that the heart never forgot.
Abbot let go of Baxtor, and I turned and walked away. I didn’t want to look at him again. I wanted to forget it had all happened. My face stung from being punched by ringed fingers. If it weren’t for feeling pain, maybe I wouldn’t have felt anything at all.
Jennifer caught up to me and laced her fingers with mine.
“I’ll find Jesse, Finnley,” Baxtor yelled as we walked away. “I’m going to find her and make her my bitch.”
JENNIFER
Thirteen
I had to see my parents’ house and visit their graves before going back to Vegas. Finnley booked a last minute reservation at a hotel in Port Arthur. No penthouse suites awaited us, just the regular, two-star hotels that lined Highway 69. We drove through Baytown and down the boring road that was hugged by pastures of nothing. I always hated driving this way, but it was quicker than going around, so I didn’t complain. Men on motorcycles followed us, and Abbot stayed close behind us. Would this be my life now? Would I always have an entourage?
The GPS said we would be there in less than ten minutes. Finnley placed his hand on my leg and squeezed. Everything would be fine, his touch assured, and I had no reason to believe otherwise. We turned down Pure Atlantic and made another turn until we were on the road that held my childhood home. A thick heaviness weighed on me as we turned onto the paved driveway and slowed up to the front of the house. Christmas lights still lined the porch, and lighted wreaths were neatly placed on every window. Finnley came around and opened my door, then grabbed my hand and led me up the stairs.
“It�
�s going to be okay. Everything is going to be okay,” he whispered.
We opened the door, and Mrs. Becky Hanley, the woman who had purchased my childhood home and had turned it into a bed and breakfast, greeted me with a huge grin and a hug. It felt good to be home.
“We made space for you when we got the call from Finnley that you wanted to come home and see the house all decorated for Christmas. I’m happy you’re here, hunny. It’s good to see you back.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Hanley. I appreciate you all being so accommodating to me and my fiancé.”
Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open as she laid eyes on Finnley. I smuggled a little chuckle. He grabbed her hand and kissed her knuckles. He was really bringing out the British charm. I couldn’t help but admire the small things about him—the way he shot little side grins to older women, or how his hair sat messily on his head. He shot me a wink when he noticed I was staring, and all I could do was smile. Finnley was mine.
“I’d like to thank you again for making room for us, Mrs. Hanley. We have reservations already but would love to stay if it won’t be too much of a hassle for you,” he said, his voice thick and sweet like chocolate.
“Oh. Oh. It is no problem. I’m happy you’re both here,” she said quickly then handed us the key to our room. “You’ll be staying in the old guest room.”
The house looked like Christmas had exploded inside. Tinsel, white lights, mistletoe, and garland hugged the walls and stairs, and I loved it. Finnley squeezed my shoulder, then stepped outside and went straight to Abbot’s car. The motorcycles lined the driveway. Mrs. Hanley peeked out the window then glanced back at her husband.
“You’ve got a parade following you, hun,” she said.
My face flooded with heat, and I could only imagine what she thought of me at that moment. People didn’t often have an entourage in Port Arthur.
I released a small chuckle. “Yeah, some of Finnley’s friends insisted on giving us fanfare in celebration of our engagement,” I said. What a stupid lie.
Finnley headed up the steps of the porch with our suitcases in tow. He met me at the stairs with a smile. I gave Mrs. Hanley a hug and thanked her again for allowing us to stay, and then we made our way up the stairs. The extra bedroom was the second door on the right. It was the spare room my parents had kept for visiting guests. I sucked in a deep breath and opened the door, expecting it to be exactly how I had left it, but that was wishful thinking. The room was completely different, down to the renewed wooden floors and vaulted ceilings with recessed lighting. The walls were a cream yellow and gave just enough brightness to remind me of the flowers that grew in the pastures during spring. This was home, and though it didn’t look the same, I had missed it. My breath was unsteady. The ache in my heart slowly faded and was replaced with a sliver of happiness. I was here, and I would enjoy it while I could.
Finnley leaned our suitcases against the wall and slowly shut the door.
“I’m going to meet with Abbie while I’m here,” I said, knowing that it was something that I had to do. It was hard not calling her on Christmas. It had been hard not having her in my life. It was time to make amends, no matter the mistakes she had made. Images of her and Finnley flashed through my mind but I pushed them away. Time healed wounds, and if I could forgive the person who had killed my parents, I could forgive her lapse of judgment. She was my best friend and the closet thing to family I had left.
“I think it’s a good idea.” Finnley placed his hand on my shoulder and squeezed, releasing the built up tension.
We both stood there, not saying a word. Sometimes talking wasn’t necessary. Sometimes words didn’t need to be said. I walked to the window and looked out. The pastures seemed to go on for miles. The crispy flat grass was still greener than anything in Vegas. I pulled my phone from my pocket and dialed Abbie’s number. I dreaded making the call, but it had to be done. No more dodging. She didn’t answer, so I left a message and hoped she would call me back.
After a few seconds, she did. “Jenn, babe, is that you?”
“I’m home. Can we meet for coffee like old times?”
“Is everything all right?”
“Yes, everything is fine. I just want to get together with you. I leave tomorrow, and there are things I need to talk about. I need to see you in person. None of this phone bullshit,” I said.
“Okay. Yeah. Sure. No problem. I’ll meet you. Now?”
“Now would be good.” I hung up the phone and placed it in my pocket. Finnley leaned against the door and stared at me. I held out my hand for him to give me the keys.
He shook his head. “I’m not letting you go alone,” he said.
“Why? I’m capable of driving myself,” I said.
“You are. But I can’t let you. It isn’t safe. If something were to happen to you and I wasn’t there to stop it … I couldn’t live with myself. I’ll drive you. I won’t go in with you, but I have to know that you’re safe.”
I sucked in a deep breath. “Does Jesse know we are here, at the house?”
“I’m not sure, but we need to leave first thing tomorrow for Vegas.”
For all I knew, Jesse was on her way to making my nightmares a reality.
I threw on the hoodie and blue jeans that were tucked deep in the bottom of the suitcase, then I laced up a pair of old tennis shoes and walked out the door. Finnley followed behind me. Abbot sat in a Range Rover outside with the seat leaned back. I glanced at him, then back at Finnley.
“Is he going to sleep out here all night?”
Finnley opened my door, and I slipped inside. “Probably. He said he wasn’t leaving. I’m not going to argue with him.”
He started the car and I gave him the address. Finnley and fast cars seemed to go together. When he drove fast, he was in his element—calm, cool, and in control. I tilted my head and watched him as he switched lanes and weaved through traffic. Soon, we were exiting and heading toward the green sign with the mermaid. I almost forgot Abbot was following close behind until I saw the reflection of the Rover in the Starbucks’s windows. Abbie’s Mustang convertible was in the parking lot. She was already here.
Nervousness coated me. We hadn’t seen each other since she’d left Vegas. So much had changed. Finnley squeezed my shoulder and gave me a smile. I couldn’t help but stare at the plumpness of his bottom lip and how his teeth rested in the crease when he smiled. I made eye contact with him then swallowed, trying to drum up courage, and stepped out of the car. Abbot rolled down the window and waved Finnley over. He walked around the back of the car, and jumped into the Range Rover with Abbot. I could only imagine what they were discussing. I took one last look at them before stepping inside Starbucks.
The smells of freshly ground coffee beans and heaven filled my nose. Most of the tables were taken, but that was normal. I searched around and saw the back of Abbie almost immediately. She was sitting in the table we always sat at, with two cups of coffee. Almost as if she felt my eyes on the back of her head, she turned around and smiled. I smiled back. She always arrived before me and ordered our coffees. It was easy to fall back into the old routine with her.
For a moment it really did feel like old times, like I had never gone to Vegas, and we were meeting like we did every weekend. It would almost be easier to go back to that. Life seemed simpler then, or maybe I had been too naïve to notice its complexity. I had learned so much about people in the past few months. I steadied my breathing and walked to her. She greeted me with a huge hug and a smile, and we sat. She was trying. Honestly, I thought it would be more awkward, that I wouldn’t know what to say, but after the ice was broken, my nerves calmed.
Abbie sipped her coffee and asked me all sorts of general questions: when I was leaving, how long I had been in town, how life was.
“I don’t know how to say this,” I said. My voice was quiet, and for once, I was happy the machines, chatter, and music were loud. Her eyes searched my face, and I felt as though she were reading me like a book. Not much
got past her either. Funny how I surrounded myself with that type of person.
“I’m afraid for my life,” I said, finally admitting something I had never spoken out loud.
She licked her pink lips and leaned in closer to me, then she grabbed my hands and squeezed. Her eyes searched my face. “What is going on?”
“Jesse. She’s a psycho bitch. She’s jealous of Finnley and me. She wants me dead, and I keep having horrible nightmares that she finds me and does exactly that. I’m scared. I felt like I needed to see you just incase—”
“Don’t you dare say it, Jennifer. Don’t you fucking dare even speak that into existence. Finnley isn’t going to let anything happen to you. He won’t.” She squeezed my hands and gave me a small smile. I’m not sure whether she believed her own words.
My emotions were in overdrive, and the urge to cry overcame me, but I didn’t. I had to be strong. As a child, I was taught that crying was a sign of weakness. It was something that girls did, as if being a girl were a bad thing. I didn’t want to be weak then, and I didn’t want to be weak as an adult. The stigma of crying seemed to have followed me through life, and during times when crying was okay, when it was necessary to let emotions fully take over, I had refused it. I had denied that release and by keeping it bottled up. Eventually, when I did allow myself to fully give in to my feelings, I had doubted they would be able to stop, that my tears flow like a faucet with a stripped seal and never stop pouring. I swallowed it down and pushed it back, again.
“I’ve got something to tell you too,” Abbie said. Her eyes darted around the room as if she were checking something. If someone had looked over at us, we would have looked like two grown women telling secrets, but it was much more than that. Much more was at stake.
“A woman came looking for you. She didn’t say much. I’m not sure how she found me, but she asked a few questions,” Abbie said.
My mouth fell open and I whispered, “Jesse.”
“She didn’t give her name, but I’ve never seen her before. She said she was related to you and asked where you were. She mentioned she had visited your house.”